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brailsthesmolgurl · 9 months ago

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WHERE'S MUMMY? PT.2

My first part has received an amazing amount of response, hence I decided that I would come out with a part two, and who knows? Maybe this could be another mini series for the boys? :)))) Regardless, enjoy the read!

Warnings: Comfort and Fluff, Slight Angst for some parts. Mentions of smexy times for one, suggestive for another. ANONS ARE POOPY SOMETIMES BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL STOP WRITING SUGGESTIVE HAHA :(

RAFAYEL & MARIELA

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Mariela's voice could be heard from the other room at the end of the hallway as she called out to her father. Rafayel, who was busy working on one of his art pieces, dashed towards her room at full speed, panicking at how she was calling out to him. He slammed the door open, claymore ready to be withdrawn only to find his daughter on the floor, with paint all over her face and the canvas that he had provided to her.

One may ask why did Rafayel left his daughter all alone in her room while he was working on his art piece. Rafayel, being a good father, had coaxed his daughter for 30 minutes, with candies and also anything she could possibly want, only to be rejected by her. Her adamant 'NO's made Rafayel confused as to why she would want to paint alone in her room. 'I can do this myself daddy' was the last sentence she told him before she closed the door. And he wondered where she got the attitude from, and he had a good guess probably inherited from her independent mother.

So Rafayel sat at the living room, in his usual thinking corner, painting his artwork, but also carefully listening to anything that might go on in the room. He did tried and checked up on her a couple of minutes ago, knocking on her door and asking if she would like any biscuits with milk but the young child only replied 'NO' as if that is the only word she knew for the morning.

"I thought something happened to you, my little fishie." Rafayel sighed in relief, walking over to her to look at what she had drawn. He took a seat next to her and looked at her face. "How did you managed to get paint on both the canvas and your face?" He pulled the little girl into his lap and he chuckled, using his thumb to try and rub the paint off of her face and luckily it came off pretty easily. He silently thanked your effort in purchasing non-toxic paints for Mariela.

"I wanted to do it like how daddy do it." Her smile was angelic, one of Rafayel's trademark. She reenacted how she did it, by drawing air circles on her palm and on her face. "I drew here, and here and..." She flattened her palms and plopped her face onto the surface of her palms. Rafayel was in shock at her creativity.

"So you used your hands and your face as tools to draw?" He tilted his head and when the toddler nodded giddily, Rafayel pinched her cherubic cheeks. "You are an artist just like me. No wonder you're my daughter." He kissed her cheeks and carried her up in his arms. "Now, let's get you washed up and then we will show this piece to mummy when she is back from work okay?"

"OKAY!" She cheered, both arms flying up into the air and Rafayel laughed, bringing her into the bathroom to wash her off from the mess she had brought upon herself.

The roars of your motorbike could be heard and that led Mariela to jump off of the couch, with Rafayel catching up behind her quickly. "Mummy's home!" Mariela was elated, trying to turn the door knob the best she could but with her size and strength, she is not able to. Rafayel came to the rescue on time and he opened the door, smiling when he spotted you getting off of your motorbike and unclasping the buckle of your helmet, swiftly removing the headgear and placing it on your motorbike's seat. "Mummy!"

"Hey there sweetie!" You called out and shuffled over, arms wide opened and your daughter embraced you within your arms. "How was your day today hmm?"

The latter question of yours was directed towards your husband, who was standing against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his torso while watching both of his favourite women walking towards him. "It was good because there is a surprise." He winked at you and you both shared a peck, before heading in. "Mariela, do you want to show mummy what you drawn today?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" The little girl wriggled out of your arms smoothly and she waddled off to her room. You took a seat on the marble floor and awaited for your daughter's return. Rafayel taking a seat right next to you and he encircled his arms around your waist, giving your side a soft knead. The soft sound of thuds closing in when your daughter came out from her room, with something behind her back. "Mummy close your eyes."

Your husband then got behind you and he used his palms to cover your eyes, nodding towards your daughter to proceed further. Mariela pulled the canvas out from behind her and she placed it in your lap, before taking your hand cautiously and put it on her canvas. Rafayel released his hold on your face and you looked down, gasping in surprise at what your daughter had managed to colour on her canvas. But, you can't make out any shapes or sizes, other than two hand prints of hers and what seems to be an imprint of your daughter's face.

"This is so nice of you sweetie." You pulled her in for a hug and kissed her head. "Did you do this with your hands and face?" You asked just to be sure and her reaction made you stared at Rafayel. The actual artist staring back at you, shrugging his shoulders and muttering something along the lines of 'she did not want me to see what she was doing, so I left her to her own creativity'.

"Abstract art is great!" Rafayel smiled, ruffling his daughter's brunette curls which had grown a bit longer. "Daddy can put this in the next exhibition and you can go with me to see it." Rafayel looked at his daughter and she cheered, hugging you tightly and you beckoned your husband in for a hug as well.

On the day of the exhibition, Rafayel was busy attending to the guests, completing his interviews and taking pictures with his fans. You are spending time with Mariela, hand holding hers as the both of you walked through the exhibition halls. Pink and blue and purple, all colours within the same spectrum covered the walls in forms of splatters, lace ribbons were tapered to the ceilings, to add on a touch of elegance. No doubt your husband has 'extravagance' as his middle name.

Almost every corner is littered with his artworks, ranging from abstract to rough sketches, to impressionism paintings to sculptures. Rafayel is a master to all types of artworks, which gained him the fame and respect he has gotten till now. The wooden flooring resonated the sound of your footsteps, heels clacked against it in sync. You looked down at your daughter to notice the little girl has her mouth agaped, staring at all of her father's artworks in awe. Same, Mariela, same.

"Is that the daughter he had mentioned about?" A distant voice could be heard echoing from the end of the hallway and you turned around, seeing a woman clad in a formal outfit, hair neatly tied back and a microphone in her hand. A camera man right behind of her with one of his huge video cameras situated on his shoulder. "Hi, can we do an interview?"

Out of politeness, you agreed, smiling and nodding your head and the reporter crew started to approach you and your daughter. You lowered yourself down to carry Mariela up into your arms so that she could be within the shot as well, assuming the reporter would like a word or two with the renowned artist's daughter.

"How would you describe living with Rafayel, a famous artist?" The reporter held out the mic to you, awaiting for your response.

"Uhm...living with Rafayel has always been a pleasant one, as he does take care of me and my daughter's needs." You replied, a smile coming forth. "He is a good husband and a good father."

"That is good to note. Rafayel sure do cares about you guys a lot. But, would you care to say that you fell in love with him because he is rich and famous?" The daring assumption made by the reporter made you scowled in 4k on the Linkon's National Television Network.

Your eyebrows are now knitted together, your facade of being nice slowly fading behind your rising annoyance. "No. I certainly do not and will never love him just because of his wealth and fame. I love him for the way he is."

"Fans had also mentioned that you do not seem to be a good example of a mother given you are a deepspace hunter yourself. Moreover, given the recent decrease in recruits, you had to take up double shifts to cover for the incident. What do you have to say regarding this?" The woman smirked, knowing she had struck a nerve in you. Her tone coated in layers of disdain and you can see it right through. This is a personal attack towards you and your family.

Before you could retort the question, you felt a hand on the small on your back and you turned around, your husband standing upright beside you. A look you knew all too well shown on his face. "Get out of my exhibition." The crew feigned innocence, looking at one another to mentally convince themselves that they had done nothing wrong other than doing their jobs. "Nobody disrespects my wife and my family like that. Be it fans or reporters or anyone else. SO you can kindly see yourself out before I call on my security guards." The edge of his lips curled into a cunning smirk. "Which I think might not look good on your company's reputation if they were to escort you guys out."

The bunch of strangers started dispersing out of the family's sight and you looked at Rafayel, who is quick to take Mariela off of your arms and into his. "Are you okay?" He ran the back of his hand across your cheek. "I am sorry, I should have been by your side the whole time." He apologised, putting the blame onto himself but you held his hand in yours, thumb rubbing comforting circles.

"Don't say that Rafayel. You were just doing what Thomas has asked of you. I can fend for myself if those remarks were thrown to me." You gave him a peck on your cheek. "Even if the day you end up being homeless and broke, I will still love you." You looked over to your daughter, who had cosied up to her father's neck, fast asleep.

"The same thing applies from me to you too, cutie." The use of the old nickname rolling off of the tip of his tongue made you bit your lip and you could not help but to smile, looking down at your heels. His finger lifted your chin up, and he pressed a kiss onto your lips lovingly in the middle of the exhibition hallway, ensuring that reporters who may be passing by would be able to catch a glimpse of his actual exhibition of love.

ZAYNE & LUMI & IVER

"Good morning." You could make out Zayne's husky voice and his weight was pressed up slightly against your back, a kiss then planted on your cheek. "Today is Lumi and Iver's presentation day. The one where they have to bring a parent along and to introduce them."

"Oh it's today?" You asked, yawning and stirring yourself to wake. You turned over to face your husband and you opened one eye. "I totally forgotten about it." Zayne smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You felt particularly tired because today is one of those rare off days you could get whenever Wanderer sightings are not reported as often, and perhaps, with the amount of lovemaking you had gone through with Zayne last night, it was a little hard for you to just jump out of bed and get ready for now.

"I can go on behalf on us as I do not need to be in the hospital today." He smoothed his hand over your hair, staring at you lovingly with those alluring hazel-green eyes of his. "So, take your time to rest, my love. You deserve it." Another kiss is pressed to your lips for a few seconds and he got out of bed, walking over to you to pull his side of blanket over your half naked body. "I don't want you to get a cold, so you may take my side of the blanket too."

You smiled warmly at him in return and managed to catch a glimpse of his toned physique when he walked towards the bathroom to wash himself up. Once he was done, he went over to the kids' room to wake them up. "Lumi, Iver. It's time to wake up." He said gently, pushing the curtains open to draw in the sunlight. The twins slowly stirred awake and they both sat up in their beds, in a half awake state.

"Morning daddy." Lumi spoke, with Iver saying the same exact greeting a few seconds behind. As if by routine, they both extended their arms out and Zayne picked both of them up in one-go, bringing them to the bathroom so they could get washed up and get dressed for school.

Pulling up at the twin's kindergarten, Zayne parked at the allocated parking lots for the parents and he got out of the car, immediately getting stares and comments from the bystanders in hushed whispers. Not only does he own a fancy car that most parents could not afford, but he is also extremely good looking. He popped the backseat's door open and escorted both of his kids into the kindergarten's premises.

Zayne sat on the floor, just like the other parents but it felt a little out of place for him as he was the only father who attended this event. The usual stigma regarding kids shall always be tied to a mother's responsibility but Zayne has never believed in that. He strongly believes that childrens are a result of both sides of parents, hence they should be a shared responsibility for both parents.

Lumi and Iver sat in front of their father, and they noticed the way their classmates were looking over to them. "Is that your daddy?" One of the classmates asked Lumi, the toddler about her size, with big brown eyes and short brown bob. Lumi nodded in return. "My mummy say he looks very nice." The comment made Zayne looked over at the parent who is in charge of the talking child and the mother looked away in embarassment.

As usual, Zayne is used to this kind of scenarios, even in hospitals he would always be stared at by patients, some even going as far as to state that they are cured because of how handsome he is. Zayne however, never bought into any of those bullshit. It is not because he is egoistic, but he does not want to be downplayed because of his looks. The saying goes, if you are handsome, you get a certain privilege amongst the normies. Zayne wanted to prove that idea to be a total scam as looks does not necessarily equate to one's actual capabilities in getting things done. Zayne being a prime example.

The homeroom teacher came in after the bell had finished ringing and she welcomed all of the parents' attendance. Goes on about the agenda for the day and that this event is held to encourage stronger bonds between parents and children and amongst their peers as well. "Lumi and Iver's father, would you like to be the first one to start?" She asked Zayne, palms out and pointed towards him.

"Sure." The man replied, clearing his throat and standing up, his towering height a stark difference from his children. He walked to the front of the classroom. Kids of their age would have thought of him being the giant in the beanstalk fairytale if only he had green skin and a big nose. Zayne pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and greeted everyone. "Good morning everybody, my name is Zayne and I am the father to Lumi and Iver." He sent a smile towards his kids. "I am the chief surgeon and leading cardiologist for Akso Hospital."

Zayne talked about his job, keeping it brief and non-technical as he does not want to bore anyone within the room and he does not find the need to reveal too much of his personal information. Now comes the questioning phase, in which the parents would ask questions towards the speaker to get to know them better. "Dr. Zayne, since you are a doctor, would your work take up a lot of time?" One of the ladies asked, readjusting her position on the mat.

"Yes it does." Simple and clear-cut.

"Then do you have a wife to take care of the kids for you?" Her question turned into a flirtatious attempt and a couple of other mums started to tune in, some biting their lip and some fixing their hair. Does not take one to know what was already running through their minds.

Zayne sighed, feeling indifferent to her question. He purposely held his left hand in front of his chest and he twisted the wedding band that is evident on his ring finger, the diamond cut on the simple band refracting the sunlight almost immediately. The lady who asked her question seemingly tried to choke back on her own words, face darkening to a shade akin to a tomato. "Of course I do. A doctor would not be in his or her right mind to have kids and to work full time when our job requires us to be on call for 24/7."

He continued. "My wife is a full time deepspace hunter and we are both equally as involved in our children's lives, just on intervals for the weekdays, but on weekends, we take more time to nurture them." The way he phrased his answer made the whole room went silent, the only sound present being the chirps of the birds coming from outside of the window.

"We are home mummy!" Both of the twins shouted together, placing their shoes onto the shoe rack and dashing into the house to look for their mother. Zayne followed in suit, keeping an eye on them two so they do not end up falling.

"Hey there my babies!" You called out from your bedroom, already dressed up and wide awake. Lumi and Iver both in their tiny white uniforms with stripes of blue, the uniform colour of the kindergarten they both attended. Lumi's dark hair was tied into a neat braid, an effort from Zayne's Youtube history having a streak watch for braid tutorials. Iver's hair however is soft and fluffy, the same as his father’s and it sat on top of his head like a cloud.

"How was the parent meeting?" You asked them two, and they both enveloped you into a big hug, each on one side. Both of your kids looked very happy so you assumed that it went well.

"All of our friends brought mummies." Iver stated. "Nobody bring their daddies to school today." Lumi nudged Iver and whispered something into his ear in her low voice and the boy reiterated what her sister said. "Oh and Cathy's mummy said daddy looks very good."

"She said he is handsome." Lumi corrected Iver and they both turned in sync to watch your reaction. What could you possibly say? Your husband is good looking, it is a bound-to-happen situation but you somehow wished you were the one that attended the event instead. A small slither of jealousy bubbled in your stomach. Just a tiny one.

You were wondering if Zayne took the lady's compliment until you saw your husband walking into the room, with a stoic look. He has always been stoic, yes, but this time, something is different about this look of his. His white formal collared shirt hugged his muscled figure well, his simple black tie hanging loosely below the third button, extending one's sight on his wide sets of shoulders and his v-line figure. His sleeves were folded to his forearm, veins lining against the exposed part of his arms. He placed the car keys and his glasses onto the makeup table and sent you a short look, the side of his lips pulled up into a greeting and loving smile. "Good morning, y/n."

"Good morning, my love." You wanted to believe that Zayne did not entertain the lady's compliment, but you just wanted to hear him say it. So, y/n decided to go with an indirect approach. "Kids, can you wait for mummy outside? Daddy and mummy have to talk a little." Once both of the kids had left, you turned to your 'sulking' husband who was busy changing into a more comfortable outfit. "Come on, what happened?"

"Apparently, I was the only male figure there." He spoke informatively. "And particularly, I do not find it likeable when the other parents think that I am a single parent." His sentence got you figuring when did he ever cared about what people think about him? Has the cold Dr. Zayne finally loosened up? "I find it disrespectful towards you despite them meeting me for the first time." He sounds offended and yet providing the benefit of the doubt to the other parents.

You stared at him, perplexed at the situation. "So, conclusively, you do not enjoy going to the parent's meeting?" You crossed your arms in front of your torso. "Because you do not like the way I got low-key disrespected by the other mums?" A part of you is tasting victory at the tip of your tongue for how protective he is, another part of you---, okay there's no other part. It is the least Zayne could do to show you and the others that he is in a happy marriage and you are fully content with the way he had handled it.

There is not a need to address your concerns of the woman calling him handsome anymore because you know well enough if Zayne had wanted to cheat on you, he could have done it many times given his popularity amongst the opposite sex. But he stayed loyal through thick and thin and had never made you doubt his loyalty and love to you, this being one of his prime examples of being a fine husband.

Zayne chuckled under his breath and came closer to you, both of his hands held your arms and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Low-key is too minimal of a word to describe their assumptions. It is disrespectful for them to assume I am a single parent, when I have a model wife right here with me." He ran his hands repeatedly up and down your arms to comfort you.

"Furthermore, I do enjoy going to Lumi and Iver's events at the kindergarten but perhaps next time, I would much prefer it if you went with me." He pulled you into his arms and you surrendered within his hug. "So that we can spend time with the kids and I get to indirectly dismiss any ladies who may be interested in taking your place." Your laugh further made him look forward to the upcoming event for his kids' kindergarten.

XAVIER & LUCIAN

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Lucian appeared from behind his bedroom door, one eye opened while the other half-lidded. Xavier took a peek at the clock hung on the wall. 10.30am. Lucian, however, is looking at the desk filled with all sorts of sewing needles and a bunch of fabric lapped over one another. "Are you making something daddy?" His eyebrows hinged upwards and he tried to get onto his tip toes to see what was placed on the table. Seeing his son struggling, he carried the little boy up into his arms and placed him on his lap. "I am trying to sew mum a toy, you know, like the ones that you can get from the souvenir shops and all?" Lucian looked between his father and the mess on the table, figuring out how does one make a bunch of cloths into a toy. The limitation of imagination a normal happening for a toddler his age. "What should we make for mummy?"

"A big teddy bear!" The son exclaimed, arms wide and laughing happily. Xavier chuckled along, his son not lacking any bit of his wife's enthusiasm. "Rabbit? Mummy likes rabbits." The son pressed his small index finger to his own lips, thinking to himself. The suggestion of his made Xavier's cheeks flushed red, remembering that one time when you brought him to an event and made him dressed up as a rabbit themed butler, and that is how he met Lucian's mum. Ironic, I know.

"Yeah, I guess a rabbit would do." A sigh escaped his lips when he noticed none of the cloths on the table are white. Unless his wife would be able to appreciate a multi-coloured rabbit toy, he did not want to risk it. "We need to go shopping for some stuffs. Can you go and change your clothes Lucian?" Xavier instructed and the little boy headed off to his bedroom as he was previously trained. As much as independence goes, you and Xavier had decided that some good habits have to be instilled from young. Dressing himself up being one of the disciplines you guys had agreed on.

Xavier got himself changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of wide jeans. Surprisingly and yet not surprisingly, Lucian came out of his room, holding a same blue jeans in his hand. "Daddy, can you help me? It is hard to pull it up-up." He pouted, handing Xavier the jeans. Steadying himself, Xavier pulled the jeans up his legs and helped him to button it. "Thank you daddy." The son grinned from ear to ear and held onto Xavier's hand, going over to put on his shoes.

Initially, they were going to ride the motorbike to get to where they are headed, but given the sun is high up the skies today, it calls for a chance for the both of them to enjoy a walk under the clear and warm weather. Xavier did brought along an umbrella as well, in case Lucian gets a little hot. Just because he enjoys the sun, he does not immediately assume his son would enjoy it as much. A lesson he had learned from his wife when you got a fever after walking with him under the sun despite you not being able to stand the heat.

The streets today are not as busy as the normal weekends, with minimal traffic and pedestrians. "Are you tired already?" Xavier observed his son, his footsteps slowing down and slightly wonky. Lucian looked up at his towering father and shake his head, hand coming up to rub his eyes and he yawned. Tears lined his eyes and Xavier bent down to carry his son up into his arms. "It's okay, you can take a nap in my arms, kiddo."

He walked down the street, passing by a coffee shop that looked newly opened. As he was looking through the menu that was on a stand outside, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fishing it out of his pocket, he noticed that his wife is contacting him. "Hello? Baby?" He immediately pressed the phone to his ear. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I woke up to an empty house. Where are you and Lucian?" You asked and he gulped, luckily he had kept the threads and sewing kits and fabrics or else the surprise factor would be ruined.

"Lucian told me that he wanted to have a walk at the park. Since you are still sound asleep, I decided to bring him out for a small walk." Xavier explained, head tilting slightly to look at his son. Still sound asleep within his arms. "We will be back around 15 minutes. Is there anything you would like me to get for you?"

"Some coffee would be great, Xavier." You smiled on the other side of the line, same as him. "Be safe when you are at the park with Lucian alright? I will just rest a bit more at home." You informed him and the call ended with 'Bye' and 'I love you'.

Arriving at a craft store, he lightly woke his son up by kissing his cheek. "We are here Lucian, would you like to accompany me to decide on what colour to get for mummy?" Lucian blinked open his eyes, those light blue irises of his slowly darkened to make up for the lack of lighting within the store. The trinkets neatly placed in various baskets and boxes amazed the child, there are so many things he would like to get his hands on.

"Hi there, how may I help you?" A senior appeared from behind the counter. A lovely lady with a hunched figure, her own kitting works worn on her. Xavier leaned closer to the counter, noticing the vast amount of fabrics, of all sizes and textures mapped out behind the counter. There are also several pictures, in monogramic style, featuring the old lady in her younger days and what seems to be her children, standing side by side, smiling with her. Her light brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of Xavier and Lucian. "Oh, what a precious child."

"Thank you." Xavier thanked her. The old lady laid her knitting items down onto the table she had beside her and she reached her wrinkly hand up to wave it in front of Lucian. The young kid was quick to react, using his tiny hand to wrap around the lady's index finger and Xavier swear he could have seen the old woman regained her youth at that moment. Perhaps reminiscing about the times when she had her kids alongside her. "I am here to get some fabric so I can make a stuffed toy for my wife."

Now it is Xavier's time to have a hunched back. He never thought the process of sewing a stuffed toy would be so complicated. Can't blame him, given his royalty background in Philos and him being an esteemed deepspace hunter in this dimension, why would he even go near anything related to sewing and knitting? It is however, a part-time hobby of yours, as you mentioned that you find it to be peaceful and helps you to focus better. It is also a good past time on the days when you are not busy out on the field.

"Daddy, daddy look at that!" Lucian called out and his head turned towards the direction his son pointed at. Claw Machine Store. Why has he never thought of just taking things the easy route? Because he did not want to. Catching a stuffed toy from a claw machine will always surpass the level of easiness as compared to making a stuffed toy from scratch. Furthermore, the thought of you finding out he actually put in the effort to make the stuffed toy for you would leave your heart melting. He wanted that from you, or more like he just wants you to be happy.

Across the street stood the claw machine store, with stuffed toys filled to the brim for each of the machines, begging to be caught. Your son's eyes are fully attached to the store now, already making mental marks on which toys he would want in his room. Your husband lack that enthusiasm, staring down at the huge bag of craft items he had just purchased from the store. He is debating against himself. Whether to catch a toy or to make one. Either one could predict for different endings, but he knows that you would be happy for both endings. Perhaps he was slightly irritated for the measuring of the level for your happiness.

"Let's go Lucian." He grabbed his son and heaved him upwards, holding the child in his arms like how one carries a log and he crossed the empty street. His feet light and quick in his steps, a habit obtained from his long-time combat instincts. The borders of the tar road ended when he stepped onto the padded pavement, putting his son down and watched as the kid hopped into the store. Xavier was quick on his tail, worried that something might happen to his son.

Luckily, the little boy with the light hair is easy to spot amongst the assemblage of neon lights and bright colours emitting from the machines. Lucian stood in front of a machine, hands pressed against the glass panel, hair stained pink from the light strobe of the machine. "Can we get this one for mummy?" His grin was angelic, but Xavier stood there, slightly stunned. Did his son perhaps doubted his sewing abilities as well like how he doubted his cooking abilities? Well, there is a possibility.

"But I bought these already kiddo. I thought we were going to make a toy for mummy." Xavier tried to test the waters and his son only responded with gestures, tine finger tapped at the glass panel again, pointing directly at the bunny plushie. "Lucian..." Xavier tried to coax him again.

Lucian then faced his father, lips pursed together. "The granny told me that you might get hurt from sewweng." The last word that has not been registered in his vocabulary. "I don't want daddy to get hurt. I don't think mummy will be happy too." For a 3-year old, his sensibility is admirable. His son's words changed his mind, and he gave the little boy a card, the one where he usually reloads a bit too much tokens in it for any sorts of arcades. "Let's get one for mummy together okay?"

"You," You closed the bedroom door behind you, a pastel pink stuffed rabbit in your grasp. Lucian had already being put to sleep shortly after his dinner because the poor boy was dozing off on the dining table. Today could have been a long day for your son. You watched your husband shifted his gaze from the mukbang show on the television to you. "Are a bad liar."

"What do you mean?" His voice feigning innocence when he sat up in a better posture, leaning against the bedframe now. "What have I done this time?"

"Lucian told me that you stitched this yourself." Your teasing smile is apparent to him now, you wiggling the bunny in your hands to show him the evident of his works.

"Do you not believe me?" Xavier's eyes widened, here comes the puppy look. He got out of the bed and slowly approached you. His aura taking a turn from being accused to being the accuser. "Or, do you not want to believe that I stitched it?"

You took a step back, your lower back pressed against the makeup table and he caged you, arms extended on both sides of your figure and he leaned in, smirking and chuckling lowly under his breath. "I...I...didn't know you could stitch toys." Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel his warm breath fanned across your cheeks.

"I feel a little bit upset now." He expressed, pressing a soft and longing kiss onto your cheek and you jolted in shock. "Your son and I had tried to get a toy for you at the arcade today but we kind of finished the credits because the machine was problematic." You would safely put a finger on the fact that he is just bad at claw machine games as per usual. "So, Lucian and I decided to go back to the store where we bought the craft products from and got the old lady behind the counter to give us a crafting lesson. Then this bunny is the outcome of the lesson."

You can feel your heart bloomed at his explanation. You felt bad for doubting his skills, and you even thought that the bad stitching of the toy is a trend nowadays hence you assume your poor husband went off fishing at the claw machine arcades. You should not have doubted his determination. "I'm sorry Xavier, I didn't mean to. I just never thought you would go so out of your way to make me a stuffed bunny. I just---" His index finger slid past your bottom lip at a painfully slow pace.

"Sometimes, you can choose other methods to let me know that you're sorry." He whispered quietly and leaned down to kiss you, the doll you were holding taken out of your hands and tossed behind him, landing on the floor with a thud and your vision blended out into both of your igniting passion.

Here you go lovelies, this is part two for the LNDS boys with their kids and you <3

Leave me your thoughts and love <3 Have a nice day to all me lovelies!!!!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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ashwhowrites · 6 months ago

Note

I have a request basically you remember when Robin saw Vickey and her bf kissing in a store and was devastated yeah so basically after that she ran head first into reader and soon enough they start dating and a few months/weeks later the roles are reversed and Vickey walks in on Robin and reader doing the same thing in the volunteer center/hawkings high

For the sake of the story, lesbians can kiss in public

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Miss moving on

Robin and Steve tried to move fast as the group waited in the stolen trailer, but Robin stood frozen in her spot. She could feel her heart slowing down as Vickie's lips pressed against a boy. Robin didn't have any proof that Vickie was gay, but she had so much hope.

Steve stood behind her with a pitiful expression, landing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His touch made Robin jump out of her trance, Vickie now looking her way. Robin turned around and began rushing out of the store, but then she hit something.

or someone

"OH MY" the voice said as their bodies made contact. Robin felt her butt smack against the floor and her cheeks flame in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?"

Robin looked up to see a girl holding out her hand. But not just any girl, a gorgeous girl. Robin took her hand, blushing harder as the girl easily yanked her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" The girl asked again, worry in her eyes as Robin still hadn't said a word.

"Oh..uh...yeah" Robin stuttered

"Good, would be a shame to see a pretty thing get hurt," the mystery girl said before she walked away.

Robin stood shocked as Steve threw his arm over her shoulder, "Sorry about Vickie" He led them back to the van.

~~~

Weeks passed and all Robin thought about was the mystery girl who she truly believed hit on her. No straight girl would randomly say that. The images of the beautiful girl flashed through Robin's head repeatedly, Vickie so far gone.

Robin begged Steve to drive her back to that store, praying the girl might be there again. It was the only place and only chance.

"Good luck!" Steve yelled out the open window as Robin walked into the store. She wandered around, keeping her eyes on the lookout. She felt her heart speed up with excitement when she saw the girl again. She was looking at the shelves, and Robin took a deep breath.

Robin moved to stand next to her, pretending to look at the same shelf, her eyes going to the side to look at the girl. Robin tried to think of something to say but hated that she kept drawing blanks.

"Oh hey! I know you," the girl said, a huge smile on her face as she turned to look at Robin

"Oh hi!" Robin said, her voice cracking as her face flushed.

"I didn't catch your name last time," the girl said, holding out her hand. "My name is Y/N."

Robin swore that was the most beautiful name she had ever heard.

"Didn't catch me last time either!" Robin joked, cringing once it left her mouth. "I mean...uh..Robin"

Y/N laughed at her dumb joke and shook her hand

"It's nice to meet you, Robin"

Steve was listening to music when Robin yanked open his door. A huge teeth-filled smile on her face as she got in the car.

"GOT HER NUMBER!" she screamed

~~~

After the events of the upside down, Y/N and Robin barely had time to start their relationship. But they both knew one would start the second the world was upright. Robin cursed the timing of Vecna and the events that followed. But before the world went to hell, they had a few dates and shared a few kisses.

Now, Robin and Steve were at the school, volunteering to help the families that lost loved ones when Hawkins split into two. Steve was sorting through clothes but kept looking up at Robin. She stood nervously as she waited for Y/N to show up. Y/N was a kind heart and volunteered the second Robin said she'd be busy with volunteering. Robin couldn't wait to spend time with her, even if it was preparing meals.

Steve smiled as Y/N walked up behind Robin, tapping her shoulder.

Robin smiled once her eyes met Y/N's.

"Hi" Y/N smiled

"Hi" Robin whispered

They were both lost in their own world as they looked at each other. Blushing and softly bumping each other as they prepared sandwiches. Small conversations turned into soft whispers.

"You know with the world almost ending, I had a hard pill to swallow," Y/N said, biting her lip

"Of what?" Robin asked

"Not getting to kiss you" Y/N admitted, shyly looking over at Robin as she put down the knife. She wiped her hands on her jeans.

"Oh" Robin blinked, Y/N watched as her freckled cheeks began to redden, "well" She swallowed, "You could do it now"

"Yeah?" Y/N whispered, leaning in as her hands landed on Robin's hips.

"Yes" Robin whispered

The girls leaned in and their lips connected. Robin felt like her heart was exploding as she gripped Y/N's elbows.

Steve watched with a proud smile

And Vickie walked in at the wrong moment. Her heart slowed down as she watched Robin's lips smash against a girl she had never seen before. The two were kissing each other like no one else was around them.

Robin moved on, and Vickie realized her feelings too late.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x reader angst #robin buckley #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x reader fluff #robin buckley x female reader fluff #ashwhowrites

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 days ago

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The Gray Woman 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You meet a man who tests your patience. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: To those who didn’t help me resist this beast, I blame you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Just the wine, thanks,” you tap your card on the edge of the lane counter mindlessly. The cashier rings through your single bottle and sends it down the next conveyor. You tap and the machine chirps. “Have a good day.”

You take your receipt as the woman on the other side of the counter greets her next customer. You do your best to make yourself as little as a nuisance as you can when you switch roles. It saves everyone a whole lot of trouble.

You go to grab your wine but it’s plucked up beyond your grasp. You keep your arm outstretched before you recoil it, staring at the stranger as he reads the label. You swallow and take a breath. You don’t have a window between you or a security button on a desk. It’s different when you’re out in the world. More dangerous, less orderly.

“Excuse me, may I have my wine?” You ask flatly.

The man clucks and tilts his head to look at you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and smirks, turning to face you completely. He keeps the wine in his hand. His bristly mustache slants in amusement.

“Let’s try again. ‘Mr. Hansen, may I have my wine?’” He outlines the words with a flutter of fingers.

You squint and shake your head. “Do I know you?”

His lips part as he stammers, “uh, yeah? You—from the bank—Jesus. Doesn’t matter.”

You nod warily and reach for the bottle. You wrap your hand around the narrow neck but he refuses to let go. Instead, he steps back, drawing you with him as the next customer comes down the lane. You cling to your middle shelf purchase.

“I know you fucking remember me. You’re just trying to piss me off because Ronnie isn’t here to lay down the law. Trust me, I can do it myself, sweat pea.”

He glares down at you. He sure has a lot of anger. You’re not entirely sure what you did to him. Working with peoples’ money is not easy, for either party. It’s such a sensitive subject as it is. Still, you don’t remember doing anything so egregious as to earn the spite creasing between his brows.

“Alright,” you pull on the bottle again. “I just... I can’t remember. Honest.”

He grips the bottle even tight. His large hand easily clings to the full belly. You sigh and let go.

“Fine, it’s cheap wine anyway,” you shrug. You’re growing uneasy with this man. Not only is he aggressive but he’s much bigger than you.

You let go and spin, striding away as you shake of your disappointment and the trickle of nerves. As the automatic door slides open at your approach, you hear a pursuit. You’re not sure if it’s him but you refuse to look back. You only speed up.

“Hey, I don’t want your fucking wine,” he catches up to you as you come outside.

You don’t stop. You step off the curb and keep your head straight. You deal with the erratic passengers on the subway, you can handle some stuck-up jerk made about a bank fee.

“Would you stop? Hey, I’m trying to have a conversation here,” he huffs. You keep going. “Hey!” He grabs your arm and reels you back to face him, standing just behind a parked car. “Do I need to show my ID to have a fucking chat?”

You blink at him and scour your mind. Mustache, demanding, intolerable. You think you remember now. He’s the one who refuse to show his ID. You glance back at the grocery marquee and your lips thin. As a black card holder, you don’t expect him to be shopping at a bargain grocery.

“Can I help you?” You face him.

His cheek twitches, “relax, darling, we’re not at the fucking bank.”

You consider him, eyes darting as you search for some sense in all of this, “uh huh. So...”

“Do you just not turn it off or are you really a bitch?” He sneers.

You shrug, “guess I'm a bitch.”

You look at his hand on your arm and yank away. You once more turn to strut off and he snorts. Once more, he has your wrist but you try to ignore him. Try to snatch it free as you refuse to turn back. He’s too strong.

For as long as you’ve had the canister in your purse, you don’t relish using it. You wonder if it’s expired. You reach into your open purse, dangling by your hip and turn. Before can speak, you raise the nozzle at him and press down. The coyote spray scours his eyes and he recoils.

The bottle of wine smashes at his feet and the staggers, stomping as he wipes his eyes desperately. He whines and wheezes, coughing through the cloud of spray. You back up to keep free of it. You allow a single second to mourn the pinot then scurry away. His anguished moans fade away as you dip around another car.

You head down to the subway and wait on the ramp, looking back and forth over your shoulders. You’re certain he didn’t follow you, that he couldn’t see enough to do so, but still, you’re addled. The city isn’t the place to take chances.

All you wanted was a drink or too. You planned on nursing that bottle over a few nights. The bank’s been so hectic, just the thought of getting up to go back has been keeping you awake. Well, a few chapters of your latest read will put you to sleep.

You board and find a seat near the doors. You make yourself as small as you can as you hug your purse. You’re agitated. You can smell the spray on your fingers. What an asshole. He didn’t just waste your wine, he ruined your night.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #the gray man #the gray woman #drabble

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luveline · 1 year ago

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For the Eddie/Roan/reader series have you written the first time Eddie and reader say I love you to each other? And if not could we get a little blurb for it? Like maybe Roan says it to reader first and Eddie is all like damn, I think I love her too and is just all heart eyes 😍🥰 please and thank you! This series it literally my fav 💕

thank you for your request beautiful ♡ eddie and roan—the munsons tell you they love you for the first time. fem!reader

Eddie's wearing the brand new pair of jeans you got him and feeling like a kid at Christmas. Seriously, this has to be the fucking life. Beautiful daughter, great Uncle, a home he's proud of and a job he doesn't mind, and now he has you, and you like him enough to bring him presents. What the fuck.

They were on sale, you'd said easily, dropping them in his lap with a kiss hello on the cheek. He'd been reading on the porch, didn't hear you coming until you were already there. Where's Roan? I got her a nightie, is that okay?

Said nightie flares pink around Roan's knees as you twirl her. She's standing on the green play table, every rapid footstep wobbling the hollow plastic. In each flash of her face before she turns away, Eddie sees himself —same sugary brown eyes, same smile. You're laughing, the nervous, overjoyed kind, 'cos you both know you shouldn't be doing it but you're not the one who has to say no to her. (Not that Eddie does it as often as he maybe should.)

The jeans you got him are surprisingly soft. They're straight cut and need a little adjusting, but beside that they're perfect. Eddie really, really likes being thought of, trying to squeeze a thank you in between girly giggles.

"This is super dangerous!" you warn Roan, drawing circles over her head with your joined hands.

"This is super fun!" Roan corrects, squealing as you speed up.

One too many spins has her losing her footing, but you'd been expecting it, and you catch her without any fuss. "Woah!" she yelps.

"Woah, I got you," you say, pep unfailing. You're getting better at carrying her, pulling her up your side to rest on your hip.

Roan giggles but otherwise goes quiet, not talking, only laughing as she looks up into your welcoming face. You cushion her legs on your arm so she doesn't fall, your smile turning puzzled. "You okay?" you ask, giving her a bounce like she's much younger than she is, a baby in need of comfort.

"I love you," Roan declares, planting a kiss on your cheek.

"I love you, too," you say without hesitation. Your gaze flickers to Eddie's, but it's not long enough for him to gauge any one emotion.

Roan hums like this has answered a question and puts her arms down on your chest, not quite hugging you, not not hugging you. Your fingers spread over the small breadth of her back. You steal a moment, pressing the fat of your cheek to the top of her head. "Princess," you murmur, "that's so nice. Thank you for telling me. I knew you loved me because you're always showing it, aren't you?"

"I am?" Roan asks.

"I think so." Your smile turns bright, the parentese tone you've been learning like sugar on your lips as you say, "Ooh, I love you so much, beautiful girl! Let's have some cookies to celebrate." Your smile lands on Eddie. "Can we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course you can."

You put Roan down. Eddie's lovely daughter immediately takes your hand and together you walk to the kitchen, little steps. Eddie stands there thinking to himself for a few seconds, new jeans and your big heart, a thousand things.

"Hey!" he calls, rushing into the kitchen after you. "Wait a second, Y/N."

You stare at him with wide eyes, hand stopped where it's extended to the kitty cat cookie jar. "Don't tell me there's, like, a fake spider waiting to jump out at me. I can't take it again, Eds, my heart will explode like that freaky movie."

"I love you," he says. Smiling big, not particularly afraid to say it. He's known for a while, but Roan saying it so easily reminded him. He should let you know.

You don't react with any subtlety. Roan's confession was easy, water off of a duck's back, you said it back fast. Now, you're still. Your funny smile is in a pouting frown, your eyes soft with emotion. "Yeah?" you say.

"Yeah. I love you."

"Well I love you too," you say.

Eddie nods nonchalantly, a show, saying, "Yeah, I know," before he drops the facade and crosses the kitchen for you. Roan giggles as he picks you up in a hug, wrenching you from side to side. "You should know already–"

"I do!" you say, wrapping your arms around his neck jubilantly.

"Then why are you asking?"

"I wanted to hear it again," you say.

Eddie smiles into the skin beneath your ear. "I love you. Duh."

"Duh," you say, sounding about as happy as he's ever heard you while he pulls his head back to grin at you.

Roan laughs and pats at Eddie's thigh to be picked up. He grabs her under her arm with some effort and you help to bring her up into the hug. "I love you, too, daddy."

"You should definitely know I love you," Eddie says to her. He tells her enough, three times a day or more. He tells her he loves her when they're brushing her teeth, when they're putting their shoes on, when they're driving home from school. He tells her between mouthfuls of spaghetti and through laughter, Love you, weirdo. "Is this, like, lame if I start telling you both all the time, or am I allowed?"

"Definitely allowed," you say quickly, eyes bright with enthusiasm.

"For sure!" Roan cheers.

Eddie can see the possibilities now, I love you shouted from car windows and down the phone, said into your neck and the palm of your hand. He doesn't know why he didn't say it sooner.

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slamdunktheories · 5 months ago

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Sendoh Akira: A Character Analysis (Translated)

One of the best and most memorable Slam Dunk character analyses I’ve ever read was actually an answer to a question hilariously titled: “How do I marry Sendoh Akira?” (Author: 木子妞 - Link). The first half of the answer was particularly incisive and made me consider things I'd never noticed about Sendoh.

The original is in Chinese but here's an English version of the first half thanks to a nifty translating tool (I've edited for clarity and brevity; parts in bold for emphasis). Let's dive in!

~ Start of translation ~

Question: How do I marry Sendoh Akira?

Answer: 1) MENTAL SPEED

First, you have to be excellent - not in a Mary Sue protagonist way with incredible beauty and tremendous wealth etc.— these aren’t relevant in Sendoh’s eyes. Instead, your emotional intelligence needs to be genuinely outstanding.

Why? Because it’s important to understand Sendoh Akira as a person, and he’s not an easy person to understand. I’m not talking about his interests either; those are secondary; it's mainly about understanding his inner world.

The thing is, Sendoh is actually a very lonely person, and I think this loneliness is not by choice. No one in Ryonan really understands him; they are not on his level and don’t genuinely understand him. Case in point: in the match against Kainan, right at the end of regulation time Sendoh went for a dunk but deliberately went at a slower speed to allow Maki to catch up to him.

Sendoh’s idea of drawing a foul from Maki to turn the shot into a 2+1 would’ve meant that Ryonan would win the match by a point. But in that entire arena, only Maki, Fujima and Aida understood this plan. Even Coach Taoka got excited about getting into overtime without realizing that if the 2+1 plan failed, Ryonan would almost certainly lose.

Sendoh's mind works too fast for most people to keep up with, and his standards are high. He also can’t be bothered to explain more than is necessary and so as a result is forced into solitude. Which is why if you want to draw his attention, you need to be sharp enough to keep up with him mentally — imagine how high your IQ must be for that!

2) IDOLISATION

Second, don’t treat Sendoh like a genius or idealise him too much, and definitely don’t put him on a pedestal to worship. Accept the real him, including his flaws. And there are a few.

For one, Sendoh is quite stubborn. In the aforementioned match against Kainan, Maki at one point said, "Don’t think I'll let you dunk easily." To which Sendoh responded, "I'll definitely dunk to show you. Just once in this match..." And he was as good as his word, pulling off the dunk right at the end of regulation time as part of the aforementioned 2+1 plan.

Sendoh also holds grudges. In the prefecture match against Shohoku, after Miyagi managed to score against him, Miyagi mocked him, saying, "Did you think I'd always wait for you to block?" Later, when Sendoh noticed Shohoku was running into foul trouble, who did he target first? Who did he go after to draw another foul? Miyagi.

Sendoh can also be petty. When Rukawa scored quickly, everyone marveled at the speed of his shooting that even he, Sendoh, couldn't block, and Sendoh responded by scoring right away using the exact same technique as Rukawa.

In other words, the so-called basketball genius/living legend isn’t necessarily the real Sendoh Akira himself. Sendoh the basketball player gets lionised a lot but the real Sendoh actually has a temper.

The main difference that sets him apart from others is that he isn’t as easily bothered by things. Sendoh is more mature than his peers, and he’s able to keep most of his emotions in check or bury them deeper so it's harder for people to notice them.

But if you really want to draw his interest on the romantic front, you’ll need to treat him as an ordinary person. That’s how you'll earn his respect. To be clear, it’s not about playing hard to get; it’s about seeing him with a calm mind.

Because of Sendoh's relatively mild temperament and easygoing nature, when it comes to piquing his genuine romantic interest, Sendoh Akira is the most difficult man to deal with in all of Slam Dunk. Much more difficult than Rukawa.

Rukawa can be lured by some top class basketball intel, but Sendoh Akira has almost no weak points to exploit, precisely because so little gets him worked up. The only seeming weakness is his loneliness.

If you can 1) make him feel understood and 2) do so without needing to say it out loud, then you might have a chance with him. These two points are prerequisites. And if you feel you could pull off both points and truly love him to the point of marrying no one but him, then continue reading for some specific methods, though they're not guaranteed to work.

~ End of translated first half ~

We'll skip the second half since it's not that relevant in terms of character analysis. (But it is worth a read if you are a Sendoh fan. It covers a rather elaborate plan!)

On the topic of Sendoh, I would also add that him misremembering Sawakita's name isn't pure coincidence/a gag but perfectly in keeping with his character IMO. He seems the type that is competitive right in the middle of a match but once the match is over, he doesn't hold on to losses as tightly as, say, Rukawa. I mean, let's face it. If the same thing happened to Rukawa (losing big time to Sawakita) you can bet he'd remember Sawakita's name till the end of time. But Sendoh doesn't take such losses quite so personally, and that's why he'd be the type to misremember the name of someone who beat him.

#slam dunk #akira sendoh #rukawa kaede #anime and manga #takehiko inoue #仙道彰 #スラムダンク

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cookiepie111 · 11 months ago

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˳ ׁ 𝅄 ✧Where rivers flow✧ 𝅄 ׁ ˳

A/N : @shotmrmiller has a bath maiden au with ghost I was thinking about könig next thing you know boom! König x black reader. Please like and reblog. Suggestive. Not proofread

• Gladiator könig

• He's never been happier to have a private bath. Having to share with others in the public bath was awful, constantly looking over his shoulder huddled in the corner. In and out. Cleaning is a simple task. When the luxury of a private bath came he snatched it up

• You treat him like something special at least when you're bathing him. The way you wash his hair is nothing short of sinful. Smoothing lathered soap through his hair. Working your hands through his hair to his skull. Slowly. Drawing small circles ito his head when you reach the top. keeping mind to press down just enough to get his toes curling and send shivers through his spine and a rumble out his chest. He's been showing less and less resistance what started as small shivers and rumbles has turned into groaning and rolling hips.

• " Your hair has grown."

" Do you like it?"

"It will be difficult to fight, no?. Do you want me to cut it?"

" mhhh, just tie it up"

• He's always been a messy fighter, never shying away from tearing up his enemies, but now he's looking for a way to get blood, get as messy as he can so he can call you!

• It's cute the way you prepare his baths, like he's some fancy lady he heard you feel out of favour with your mistress.. or she fell from grace.

• full of sweet smelling perfumes, honeyed soap, flower Petels, it's really all wasted on a beast like him. He can't appreciate the flowers nor slowly savour the taste of sweet honey. No, he lays waste to such fields, grabs honey right of out hive like a bear.

• He gets to lay by the bath's edge, arms proped up at the edge. Taking up his heavy arm in your hands, gently rubbing at his body.

• You spend time on every part of his body, working warmth throughout his body with a sponge delicately and lovey.

• It's so embarrassing no one has ever touched him with such softness like he's something delicate. It sturs something up in him. He's so easily ruiled up why you are teasing him so much. He turns to syurp under your touch, thick and sweet

• In his own private bath, he can take up as much space as he likes, thighs spread wide in waiting on the baths edge. Again, gentle circular motions work along leg rising heat in him, but you always stop atop of his thigh

• It must be unnerving the way his stares wholly on you. He wants you to look at him for your eyes to meet and look away bashful like the sweet maiden he knows ( thinks). You are.

• He tries to pull you, laughs when he succeeds, seeing your white linen dress cling to your body. He loves your curls, defying the water coming back dry, untouched by the water.

• The little scowl on your face is the most emotion he's getting out of you. You're always so straight faced and professional when doing your job. A neutral face no matter what happens

• Be grateful he's just pulling you in. When you start to avoid his arms and he feels he's not getting enough attention he'll wait till your back is turned away from the edge of bath paying no mind to crashing water as könig rises out. A stone wall. He'll chase you round the bath. Could you imagine anything scarier. a bull running full speed at you talk nothing of the weapon between his legs. Surprisingly, he doesn't fall he's too quick and aglie on his feet for someone of his size, coming round sharp corners with ease. you, on the other hand, slip, falling right into his arms. Squirming in his tight hold. "Liebling stay still, you're getting me all excited," you freeze, realising his words, hips grinding into yours, matching your pace .

Bath time!

You're not entirely sure who's room he's raided maybe yours or the bath room.... probably accosted some poor noble woman to help him.

His hands move to mimick yours, heavy hand spilling fine smelling liquids and soaps into the bath filling the air with a sick unpleasant sent. The flowers are..dull some how like they're drowning in the water instead of floating atop.

He's /in/ the water with you, pressed up against your back, It's too close to intimate for the baths. he shouldn't be, that's not how things are done.

You frown at the sight of the comb. Too decorative for the baths, the type of comb used for events and ceremonies. His movements are stiff and awkward, like he's never held something in his hand like he isn't one of the strongest fighters here.

You feel the comb at the crown of your skull, slowly work its way down, shaking. "Ow!" These combs weren't made for your hair. They won't work. He stops, and your shoulders drop in relief till he tries again slower this time. His other hand reaches for your hair under the comb, teasing the hair down. " Stop, it won't work"

" It's fine I know what I'm doing"

" No stop"

grumbling rising out from the water. This man just won't listen.

"Come on, I'll make a proper bath for us" calling him over to the display of combs and bath liquids, placing the thick wide tooth comb in his hands. It's amazing his ability to make anything in his hands small.

" You'll have better results using this, okay?" You're not entirely sure he's listening. No, he's too taken aback by the full beauty of your body, brown skin wet and soft from the water, your hair properly soacked now sticks to your shoulders and curls around your face.

"Here"

Your back in the bath now not so nervous anymore now, you can lean into him just a little bit.

It's better now, he takes his time combing through your hair with his fingers, separating the large curls, coiling them around his finger letting them spring back when they fall. It's too much there isn't meant to be this level of intensity at a bath

You're hoping it's the bath that's just too warm, hoping he can't feel the heat that blooms at your cheeks

#könig x black reader #call of duty x black reader #cod x black reader #x black reader #könig x reader #cod x reader #my writing #black reader

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quichein-me-softly · 2 months ago

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sick day w/ sans

You’re curled up under a mountain of blankets, barely able to muster the energy to shiver. The fever hit you suddenly, and now every movement feels like wading through syrup. Even blinking seems like a monumental task, your eyelids heavy and stinging as you force them open. The world feels oddly distant, muffled by the fever fog, but the one thing you can make out clearly is the sound of footsteps approaching.

The door to your room creaks open, and you don’t need to turn your head to know who it is. A familiar, soft “heh” reaches your ears as Sans steps in, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets as usual. He’s quiet as he approaches, but even in your feverish state, you can feel a warmth that’s unmistakable—small, quiet concern hidden behind his lazy grin.

“You look like a raisin that’s been left out in the sun too long,” he murmurs, his voice light but tinged with something softer.

“Feel like it, too.” You rasp, your voice barely above a whisper. You try to laugh, but it comes out weak and wheezing. You catch the slight wrinkle at the corners of his eye sockets—he’s smiling, but it’s a gentler expression than usual, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer.

“heard you were under the weather,” he says, pulling one hand free to show a small thermos. “figured i’d bring you the good stuff—grillbz' secret spicy soup. ‘sposed to work miracles.” He holds it up with a grin, giving it a playful shake.

You manage a small smile, reaching out. Sans pops open the thermos cap and pours a little of the warm soup into a cup. The smell alone is enough to ease some of the ache in your head, and you gratefully take a sip, letting the warmth spread through you. “Thanks,” you mutter, voice a little clearer.

“don’t mention it,” he says, watching you quietly as you drink. It tastes like a blend of Tom Yum and Egg Drop soup. You glance up to find him leaning against the bedpost, looking unusually focused.

He lets out a small chuckle, then shuffles closer to sit on the edge of your bed. Sans rarely lingers, but today, he doesn’t rush. He watches you, sizing up your state with a keen gaze.

"ya must be special 'cause grillbz usually doesn't touch the stuff. water an' all." He looks away, a larger grin creeping across his face. "but, uh, he seemed more than happy to make it when i told him you were sick."

“Maybe." You shrug. "Figured soup delivery wasn’t part of your usual routines, huh?” you joke, hoping to cut through the fog of illness and his rare, steady gaze.

Sans snorts, glancing away with a faint chuckle. “nah, but i’m an overachiever,” he deadpans, easing himself onto the mattress beside you, leaning back against the bedframe. “but don’t go braggin’. can’t have anyone sayin’ sans loves goin' the extra mile.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Guess I owe you, then.”

“nah, keep your cash,” he replies easily, shifting to get comfortable.

A silence falls, broken only by the occasional sip of soup. Eventually, Sans stretches out, tapping a rhythm against the arm of the wooden bedframe. "uh, ya want some more soup or some water?"

“Water,” you mutter, managing a weak smile. The soup left a pleasant tingle on your lips, but your already scratchy throat protested, making the thought of water sound like the best thing in the world.

“you got it, boss.” He winks, then disappears with a blip, reappearing almost immediately with a glass of cool water in hand. You blink, a little disoriented from the speed of it all, but grateful for the glass as he holds it out for you.

He props you up gently, his hand resting carefully on your shoulder as you sip the water. The cold feels blissful against your parched throat, and you close your eyes in relief. When you lean back against the pillows, he doesn’t let go right away, his fingers lingering for just a moment before he draws back, stuffing them back into his hoodie pockets with his usual nonchalance.

Sans doesn’t say much after that, just sits beside you, his presence comforting without being overbearing. He shifts every now and then, keeping a watchful eye on you in between making casual, dry comments that somehow pull a few laughs out of you, weak as you feel.

You almost forget about your fever as he talks about some ridiculous “get-rich-quick” schemes he swears he’ll try once he has the “energy,” each one more absurd than the last. You piece together something about a hotcat and fried snow empire.

Then he pauses, leaving a beat of silence. He fidgets slightly, his fingers tapping his knee in thought, before he finally speaks again, his voice a touch softer. “y’know, skeletons don’t get sick, but… i know what it’s like to feel kinda crummy sometimes,” he mutters, looking down. His voice is quiet, nearly lost in the shuffling of the blankets as he adjusts them around you.

You blink, a little surprised by his admission. The way he says it feels like there’s more he’s not saying.

You’ve always known Sans to brush off most things, shrugging away any attempts to look deeper, but here he is, sitting at your bedside, showing a little crack in his usual nonchalance. It makes your chest tighten, warmth settling alongside the fever in a way that feels oddly comforting.

“Thanks for staying,” you whisper, voice rough but sincere. His hand twitches in his pocket, and you swear you see the hint of a faint glow in his eye socket, just for a moment, before he gives a lopsided grin.

“hey, i’m just makin’ sure you don’t get up and start trying to make it to work or somethin’,” he teases. “can’t have ya gettin’ even worse, right?”

You let out a soft laugh, but your exhaustion soon catches up with you. Your eyelids begin to droop, and you sink deeper into the bed. Just before you drift off, you feel the weight of another blanket settling over you, tucking you in. His fingers brush your forehead, testing the heat, and you hear a quiet sigh.

“rest up, sunshine,” he murmurs, so soft you barely catch it as you fall into sleep.

When you wake again, you find a glass of water on the table and a small note written in Sans’ scrawled handwriting: “don’t worry. i’ll be back with more soup later—skeleton’s honor.”

And somehow, even through the haze of fever, you feel better already.

#fanfiction #undertale #sans #sans the skeleton #sans undertale #self insert #x reader #sans x reader #fluff #sans fanfic #imagine #drabble #quichein

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dixons-sunshine · 5 months ago

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Drawing Me | Scud Frohmeyer x Fem!Reader

A/N: Requested by @caseylicious. I’m so sorry it took me years to get to this request of yours. I hope I did your idea some justice!

“Just taking notes, huh?”

At the sound of Scud’s voice, you looked up from the notebook in your hands and locked eyes with his cerulean-coloured ones. The man in question was hiding something behind his back, his lips tugged up in a slight smirk.

“Yeah?” you agreed in confusion, holding up the notebook in your hands for added emphasis, showing him the notes you had been taking regarding his weapons. “What else would I be doing?”

Scud shrugged and moved to sit down next to you on the table, his legs dangling off the surface. “Oh, I don’t know,” he began, bringing a book into view—more specifically, your sketchbook. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him open it up, not needing to go any further than the first page, a page which held a detailed sketch of the man himself. “Could you maybe be drawing me?”

Your heart started pounding in your chest. What could you possibly say to diffuse the situation? ‘Oh, sorry. I just find you incredibly adorable and cute and also very attractive so I had to draw you, multiple times’? There was absolutely nothing your mind could come up with at that moment that could make the situation better.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked you before I did that,” you began to frantically apologize, your eyes looking anywhere but at Scud. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll get rid of them. They’re not even that good. I’m so—”

“What the hell are you goin’ on about?” Scud interrupted you, a light laugh escaping from his chest. “These are great! I love them.” He began flipping through the pages, nearly each one of them containing a different drawing of him doing various activities: building gadgets, lounging on the couch, smoking a joint, playing video games. There was even one of them depicting him eating his beloved doughnuts. There was no denying, at least in Scud’s mind, that you were immensely talented. “I’m amazed that you managed to make me look even hotter than I already am. Hell, can I have these? I wanna show them off.”

You were at a loss for words. He... liked them? He wasn’t freaked out by you seemingly obsessively drawing him? What? “You like them?” you inquired in a quiet tone of voice, wiping the sweat that had formed on your hands away on your jeans.

Scud nodded with a huge smile. “Fuck yeah, I do.” Scud’s smile turned more genuine when you let out a light, surprised laugh, the sound warming his heart. He scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him, unknowingly making your heart speed up at the action. “You’re an amazing artist. I don’t know why you were so worried.”

“I thought you’d be freaked out by how many times I’ve drawn you,” you voiced, laying your head down on his shoulder. This was a normal occurrence for you. Scud was physical in your friendship. Hugs, cheek kisses, moments like these. It didn’t mean anything, did it?

Scud scoffed and rolled his eyes affectionately, squeezing your shoulder once. “Please. I don’t get scared off easily. Besides, I think it’s cute that you have a little crush on me.”

It was your turn to scoff, but in an attempt to hide your embarrassment at the fact that he was right about that. However, you wouldn’t tell him that. “In your dreams, Scuddy boy.” Scud chuckled. It fell silent for a few moments after that. However, when Scud spoke up again, you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you.

“Think you could draw me naked?”

“Now you’re just taking chances.”

“Can’t blame a man for tryin’.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#scud fanfiction #scud blade 2 #scud x reader #scud frohmeyer #scud #joshua frohmeyer x reader #joshua frohmeyer #josh frohmeyer #josh frohmeyer x reader #joshua fromeyer #joshua frohmeyer x female reader #blade 2 #blade2

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harpersdragons · 28 days ago

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Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd, CHapter 5!

Finally finals are over and my self imposed writing ban is lifted, so enjoy the longer than usual chapter!

I'm not even a little sorry about the cliff hanger

Jason knows they aren’t safe where they are, he should probably move safehouses every day.

But—

But Damian slept most of the next day, only waking up briefly to eat and let Jason check his head wound. It made sense he would be tired, yesterday was stressful and he’s injured. Jason doesn’t want to wake him up just to take another convoluted route to another safehouse.

Hell, he doesn’t even have that many safehouses to burn!

He can’t keep using Bruce’s, someone will catch on, and Jason doesn’t believe for a second he could actually outsmart Bruce’s system, or Barbara when Bruce inevitably gets her to check it.

There’s not a lot of food, since Bruce only keeps these safehouses stocked with emergency rations, there’s no perishables and barely any dishes.

He’ll probably need to make a grocery run soon, but he really doesn’t want to wake the kid. Besides, it’ll have hit the news by now that Bruce’s newest son is missing, and leaving will just draw attention to them. He can’t go out as Phoenix, Damian can’t go out as himself.

Seems like there’s only one solution.

_________________________________________________

Bruce nearly collapses onto the couch in the middle of Phoenix’s apartment, the photo of his son and Talia clutched in his hand.

The apartment had been vacated by the time they got there, with no clues as to where they had gone next.

Damian’s probably 3 or 4 in the picture, grinning wildly at his mother.

He can’t lose another son.

He’s only known Damian for a few weeks, but he can’t lose him.

“C’mon, B, we gotta get out of here.” Dick pulls him off the couch and leads him towards the door. “We’ll get Dames back, but that won’t happen if you just sit here.”

He lets Dick lead him out, TIm following shortly after.

When they all pile into one of Bruce’s cars, Tim speaks up. “So…I may have planted a few bugs.”

“Tim—”

“Hear me out. We didn’t take anything, we left something. Ergo, it’s not illegal. I connected them to Babs’ system.”

“That’s not how the law works.” Dick facepalms.

"We're literally vigilantes! We break the law all the time, is this really the hill you want to die on?"

Bruce lets the boys’ bickering fade into the background.

He doesn’t remember the drive home.

He does remember the pounding his chest.

He remembers the spike of panic in his chest

What if they don’t find Damian?

Or worse, what if they do, but he chooses to stay with Phoenix?

Dick had mentioned he asked to go with the crime lord.

He can’t lose another son

He can’t be too late

Alfred makes them all go up to bed as soon as they get home (they may have been out all night searching Gotham), despite their protests.

A few hours later, after his short nap, Bruce makes his way down to the cave.

He pulls Tim’s mask footage, replaying the interaction between him and Phoenix without audio. He can still tell what’s going on pretty easily. As soon as Tim lands on the scene, Phoenix shifts to put his body between Tim and Damian.

At some point, when Bruce can only assume Tim is demanding the crime lord hand Damian over, Phoenix protectively tucks Damian further into his cape.

His youngest son looks sluggish almost, barely moving through the whole interaction. Dick had mentioned that, but seeing it was another story. It’s entirely different from how he’s been acting, even when Damian was exhausted, he never showed it.

Bruce flips through the footage over and over again, frame by frame.

He analyzes Phoenix’s posture, the way he effortlessly cradles Damian.

Eventually, he turns on the audio and lets it play through at his normal speed.

All seemed normal, until—

Until he could just barely pick up Damian’s sleepy voice.

“Incoming, Akhi.” Damian’s words are slurred, and his head barely shifts, but his eyes are trained in one direction.

Bruce stills, replaying the moment in hopes he’ll hear something different.

It’s not different, he didn’t hear wrong.

Akhi.

Not only does Damian know his kidnapper, he apparently asked to be taken (according to Phoenix, anyway, Bruce isn’t entirely sure how much he trusts that), he’s close to his kidnapper.

Close enough to call him brother.

Bruce has already had his suspicions, but this just confirms it.

The league has his son.

Again.

And if Damian is close enough to Phoenix to call him brother, Bruce may not get him back.

He can’t lose another son.

_________________________________________________

Jason waits until it’s well after dark to enact his plan.

The Bats will surely be on patrol, scouring the city for Damian, but as long as he doesn’t wear his gear, they shouldn’t look twice at him.

He just needs to run into Crime Alley and grab his and Damian’s old League gear (don’t ask him why he has it, Talia shoved a bag into his hands and said not to ask questions).

It should be simple, but if he’s not in gear he can’t grapple across the city—even if he did, it would take hours—so, he needs a car.

And he knows just how to get one.

_________________________________________________

Dick is perfectly fine.

No really, he is.

He’s used to his brothers going missing.

He’s used to hostage situations, kidnappings, attempted murders.

All part of the job.

Hell, that’s part of life as a high profile celebrity.

So Dick is 100% fine. He can deal.

He’s definitely not driving himself insane looking for his baby brother, who is currently being held captive by a crime lord and possible league assassin.

They’ve been working in shifts to find him, starting after Alfred forced them to take a nap. Currently it’s Tim, Steph, and Cass’ turn to scour the city. He and Bruce took the late afternoon shift, right after they woke up and ate enough to satisfy Alfred.

Bruce is manning the comms, technically still “resting”, and Dick is definitely not pacing the cave.

He’s pacing the manor, instead.

A few backflips later, and Alfred banned him from the manor until he’s burned off his restless energy.

Although, he’s still banned from patrolling until the current vigilantes come back.

Bruce is sitting just where Dick left him, glaring at the Batcomputer.

Dick comes to a stop in the middle of the cave, staring at the wall.

“Do you think, maybe we should call the Justice League in for this?” He calls, not bothering to look at Bruce.

“Hn.” Bruce grunts in response, as articulate as ever.

“I mean, after what happened the last time one of us was taken by a crime lord…”

“Dick.”

“I’m just saying! We need to find him, B, and the Justice League, or at least Superman, would probably be helpful!”

“Barbara called the Birds of Prey. That’s enough people searching for him.”

Dick whirls around, stalking towards the computer. “Do you even care? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. I mean, I know he was only here for a couple of weeks, but c’mon Bruce! He’s your son! You’ve barely spent time with him, and now you don’t even seem to care that he was taken!”

“Of course I care, Dick, he’s my son. I’m doing everything I can to find him.”

“Not everything.” Dick scoffs—though he grabs a cookie from the tray on the desk— and spins on his heel again, heading towards the training area. He has some acrobatic equipment there, and flying should burn off this energy.

Bruce must have looked up to see where he was going, or maybe to continue their argument, because he calls out, “Safety net, Dick.”

“Fuck off.”

“Richard.”

Dick waves a hand over his shoulder, disappearing into the sectioned off training area.

He makes sure his safety net is set up properly (not because Bruce told him to, but he’s not an idiot) before climbing to the platform.

He leaps, grabbing the trapeze bar, then twisting and hooking his legs. He lets himself dangle upside down for several moments, the bar swinging back and forth, before he rights himself and builds momentum to jump to the next bar.

He loses track of time going through a simple routine.

He leaps and flips through the air, hangs upside down, does handstands on the bar.

And still, the buzzing, restless energy is there.

Usually trapeze settles him, the freefall and head rush from being upside calms something in him, in a way not much else can.

But this time it didn’t work.

He makes his way back over to the platform, landing in a salute on instinct. He cocks his head in thought, learning a new skill could focus him enough to burn off the extra energy.

He’s been wanting to learn aerial silks, and they have the supplies to do it.

Bruce had bought all kinds of equipment when Dick moved in, he wasn’t quite sure what Dick would want to practice on when he was younger.

He’s seen aerial silk performances, watched videos on how to do beginner moves. He’s fairly confident he can figure this out.

With a plan in mind, he sets about taking down the trapezes, unclipping them and letting them fall to the safety net below. Once that’s done, he unclips the net itself, as it’s not necessary for the silks. He can practice pretty low to the ground, besides, they have thick mats on the ground for a reason.

He checks the silks themselves and makes sure they’re still sturdy, then goes about securing them.

Finally ready to begin, he thinks through the motions he’d seen people do in the videos.

…and when he tries them he promptly falls on his face.

Again

And again

Just as he thinks he’s finally starting to get the basic locks, the alarm rings through the cave.

Dick untangles himself from the silks (if he gets more tangled in the process, that’s between him and the empty room) and jogs out of the training area. He can just barely see Bruce disappearing up the stairs.

So not a bat emergency.

...Probably

He glances between the stairs and the computer, ultimately deciding to see whatever triggered the lock down procedure.

No use barging upstairs completely unprepared for whatever situation is there.

On the computer, security footage is frozen on a single frame.

A man, dressed in cargo pants and an oversized hoodie (impressive, considering the man is close to Bruce’s size), with dark hair and a startlingly white streak falling over his forehead.

Part of his face is obscured by a domino mask, and clearly a good quality one at that.

He’s standing in front of the Murcielago, flipping off the camera, and a wild grin splits his face.

There’s a stack of tires in the corner behind him, tire iron gripped in the hand not flipping the camera off.

The weird thing is (even weirder that is), the footage is dated to 2 hours ago.

That shouldn’t be possible.

Bruce has an absurd amount of alarms and sensors all around the manor, it should have alerted the second it picked up on an unrecognized presence.

Dick rushes upstairs to the garage, and he finds Bruce standing in an empty parking spot. There’s keys scattered on the ground, the board that usually holds them has been tossed carelessly across the floor. Most of the cars are untouched, except for the missing one and the Murcielago. It’s missing its tires, but the thief didn’t actually take them. They’re stacked up on the wall behind the car, just like they appeared on the footage.

Bruce isn’t even looking at his car though, focused solely on the missing one.

Dick catalogs the cars present, running them against the ones he knew should be there.

Jason’s car.

The thief stole the car Bruce meant to give to Jason for his 16th birthday.

_________________________________________________

Just before Jason steps out the door to “his” (Bruce’s) safehouse, grapple hooked on his belt (you think he’s walking all the way to the manor? Fuck no. the safehouse is close, but not that close), the lights flicker, and a speaker crackles.

Jason freezes, eyes flicking over to Damian’s sleeping form.

The kid didn’t stir, and nothing else seems out of place.

His hand creeps over to the gun strapped to his thigh, before a voice filters through the speaker.

“Jason Peter Todd!” A familiar voice shouts.

Barbara. Of course.

He’d foolishly assumed she’d left Gotham, or was otherwise out of the vigilante game.

Nope.

She’d just moved to behind the scenes.

“...Are we gonna have a problem, Barbie?”

“Oh, we already have a problem. Multiple of them, actually.”

“Right. Could we discuss this later? I have shit to do.”

“Nope. Sit your ass down.” Her voice is still too loud, he can see Damian start to shift in his sleep.

“Only if you lower the voice. If you wake Damian up, we’re gonna have a whole separate problem.”

“Is that seriously your only concern?” Despite the disdain dripping from her voice, she does speak softer.

Jason sits on the couch, fiddling with the blanket covering Damian.

“The kid’s got a concussion, it’s much more pleasant for us all if he sleeps it off.”

“Fine.” She pauses, taking a breath before continuing, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were alive?”

“What, you mean when I came back? Or when I woke up.”

“Either, both. We would have helped you, Jason.”

“Well, Talia picked me up, and I didn’t really have a way to contact you. Nor did I want to. When I came back, I told Alfred when I dropped the kid off. No one else needed to know.”

“Jay…”

“I’m doing perfectly fine on my own, Barbie. I don’t need your pity.” He stands, heading for the door. “If that’s all, I have shit to do.”

“Sit back down, I’m not done.”

“Well hurry up, then.”

“Why did you take Damian?”

“Y’mean besides the fact he asked me to?” Jason shrugs, “I missed the kid, Bruce clearly isn’t paying enough attention to him. My kid, my rules.”

“He’s not your kid, though.”

“May as well be.”

Damian wakes up, then, “Akhi?” The word slurs sleepily, and something in Jason softens.

“Hey, Habibi.” He strides back over to the couch. “How’s your head feeling?”

Damian shrugs, reaching for him.

“Well that’s descriptive, Princeling.” Jason obliges him, scooping the kid up and settling him on his hip. “Y’hungry? You slept through dinner.” There’s not much here, but he found some cans of soup.

He distantly hears Barbara coo through the speaker, and flips off the room behind him. There’s a camera somewhere, she’ll get the message.

Damian shakes his head before resting it on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well ya gotta eat somethin’, kid.”

“Clearly you two are fine. Want some help with whatever plan you have concocted?” Babs speaks again.

Jason smirks, carrying Damian to the kitchen and setting him in a chair. “Wanna help me fuck with Bruce?”

“...That depends. What’s the plan?”

“I need an agreement you won’t rat me out to the old man. I don’t want him to know where I am, or that I’m alive.”

“I’ll agree, on the condition you tell him eventually. And that you return Damian or work out a custody agreement.”

“Barbie...you know he doesn't want me there. It's better for all involved if he doesn't know I'm alive."

"I have no clue where you got that stupid ass idea," He can hear her digh on the other line, "Problem for another day. If you want my help, I need you to agree to my terms."

"...Fine. Deal.” Jason is not pouting. He's above that.

“Ok then. What’s the plan?”

Jason talks her through the plan, and where she would come in while he ladles some soup into a bowl for Damian. He can’t completely overwrite the security system, or loop it like she can.

Once he has Babs’ agreement, and Damian is fed (and quickly falling back asleep), Jason gets ready to head out again.

“Ok, Dames, I have to go out for a bit. I should be back in about an hour and a half, two hours tops. Will you be ok on your own?”

Damian just nods his agreement, and Jason takes him back to the bedroom to sleep some more.

Once he’s thrown on a domino mask, dark oversized hoodie and cargo pants, Babs hacks his phone and puts her number in it, along with a message.

You can enter as normal, your access was never erased. I’ll cover your tracks, loop the cameras, and make sure you don’t trigger the sensors.

Jason smirks, and begins the journey towards Wayne Manor.

He’s lost some time due to Barbara’s delay, but hopefully he’ll still be able to get through his plan.

Once he finally arrives at the gate, he enters his code and watches as the buzzer turns green, the gates opening slowly.

Jason grins, and makes his way towards the manor.

His original goal was just to take a car, but now that he’s here…

May as well have more fun than that.

First stop: Bruce’s bedroom.

He needs to get his baby brother’s book back.

He still can’t believe Bruce took that from him, he never once took Jason’s books when he was younger, but the one time Damian is reading one of Jason’s books, there’s a problem.

No matter, Jason will just steal his book back.

Thankfully, the tree he always used to sneak in and out (usually unsuccessfully, but only due to the sensors in the yard. This time, he has Barbara covering for him) is still there, and he’s able to scale it and make his way into his old bedroom.

From there, it’s easy to make it down the hall without being seen.

He cracks the door quietly, resolutely not thinking about how familiar the action is, from all the times he’d sought comfort from Bruce at night.

He doesn’t get that anymore.

He never will, and he’s accepted that.

…hasn’t he?

Jason shakes the thoughts off as he crosses the threshold of the room.

The book is pretty easy to find, it’s just sitting on Bruce’s nightstand.

Jason grabs it, taking a second to read some of his old annotations.

Bruce’s bed is as comfortable as Jason remembers, and it’s a battle to stand up and walk out.

Maybe he could come home?

The Bruce he remembered would welcome him.

But—

I’m not your father. I don’t have time for your teenage rebellion

No.

Jason doesn’t need him.

He’s here for a reason, anyway.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Jason forces himself to leave the room, to leave his fath-- Bruce behind.

It’s a bit more risky to get to the garage, he has to stay in the open a lot longer than the short path from his old room to Bruce’s. If he miscalculated, or just spent too long talking with Barbara, and the bats are already back from patrol, he could get caught.

He forces himself to walk slowly, paying attention to make sure there is no one around the corners.

All his caution is futile though, as he passes Bruce’s study, Alfred appears in his path. Both of them freeze, and Jason opens his mouth to stay something. His jaw snaps shut at a raised eyebrow from him, and Alfred extends a tray full of various snacks towards him.

Jason tentatively snags a cookie off the tray and starts walking past him. Alfred nods once, and continues into the study.

The rest of the way to the garage is clear, thankfully.

Jason tucks the book into a pocket in his cargo pants—thankfully this copy is a small paperback, not the larger hardback like the first edition in the library—and heads over to the wall of keys.

The choice is pretty easy, he wants to fuck with Bruce as much as possible.

He grabs the keys for the red Toyota Camry, specifically the car Bruce was set to give Jason for his 16th birthday. The car they picked out together.

He pockets the keys, and just before he’s about to turn and leave, an idea strikes him. A small smirk spreads across his face, as he grabs the edge of the boarding holding the keys, and tosses it across the ground. The keys scatter, like intended.

With that handled, there’s only one more thing he needs to do before heading back to Damian.

He finds a tire iron in a nearby tool cabinet, and spins it casually as he walks towards Bruce’s favorite car: the Lamborghini Murcielago.

Because of course the fucker had to go with a car that means bat in spanish.

Jackass.

For an expensive car, the tires are pretty easy to steal. Bruce should work on that, you’d think he learned after a little punk stole his tires the first time.

He gets the tires off quickly, and rolls them to the side.

He grins, turning to one of the cameras in the garage, and flips it off.

Dropping the tire iron to the ground, he heads back to the camry.

He has a kid to get back to.

By the time Jason is pulling up to the safehouse again, Babs has dealt with covering his tracks and sending the footage to Bruce.

The sky is starting to lighten, the sun not quite rising yet.

There’s a bag of food sitting on the front step, and he scoops that up on his way in. He sets it on the counter and peels his domino mask off, then pulls Pride and Prejudice out of his pocket.

He runs his fingers through his hair as he heads to the bedroom to check on Damian, exhaustion weighing on him.

Only, when he opens the door, Damian is nowhere to be found.

The sheets are rumpled, there’s an indent on the pillow where Damian was sleeping.

But the kid is nowhere in sight.

Jason’s heart drops, chest constricting as he tears through the rest of the house.

There’s not much ground to cover, but the conclusion is the same.

Damian is gone.

#jason todd #batfam #my fics #batman #jason todd fic #fic writing #and sweet jason #damian wayne #mostly fluff #i suppose there's a bit of angst in this chapter

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superfan44 · 3 months ago

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Why Sora Should be Treated the Same as Superman (An Opinion Piece)

As I get older, I'm able to look at various fictional characters more closely, understanding more about why they're so iconic. A few years ago, I gained a renewed interest in the Kingdom Hearts franchise, seeing why so many people love its story, characters, and of course, its crossover element with Disney and Final Fantasy. I want to take a little look at the franchise's main protagonist, Sora, shed a light on him if you will. I feel you could draw some similarities between him and the DC Comics hero Superman (aka Kal-El, aka Clark Kent).

Now, I know this may seem like an odd comparison to some of you, but personally, I think it does kind of make sense when you think about it. Obviously these two have very different personalities, backstories, powers, and motivations that drive them. However, both are kindhearted, optimistic heroes from humble beginnings, with a strong sense of justice and morality. Not to mention a desire to help others and do the right thing.

Their respective actions certainly speak for themselves on that front, as they each go about it in their own unique way. In the comic book All-Star Superman, one issue sees him fighting a group of lizard men invading from the Earth's core. Then, in another issue, we see him stop a depressed teenage girl from stepping off a building, giving her comfort and support. Yes, he's got super strength and godlike powers, but he's also considerate, compassionate, and gentle enough to offer a helping hand whenever needed. Superman is a hero who inspires the best in all of us. He is, as filmmaker James Gunn once put it, kindness in a world that sees kindness as old fashioned. Even though he lives on a planet he wasn't born on, he still aspires to bring hope to that planet, providing them a light to show the way. Krypton made him the man of steel, but Earth made him human.

There are moments in the Kingdom Hearts series where we see a bit of that kindness mirrored in Sora as well. One minute he would be cutting down Heartless with his keyblade, the next he'll be enjoying good times with his friends, old and new. Whether it's dancing around with Rapunzel in the Kingdom of Corona, visiting Winnie the Pooh and his pals in the 100 Acre Wood, or helping to make Boo laugh in Monstropolis. He protects the world order and fights against the forces of evil, but he's also having fun along the way. There's a playfulness to Sora, a big smile on his face that warms people up inside. He's a brave young man who can easily form connections with anyone he comes across. There are still hardships to face, but he perseveres through it, showing that deep down, there is a light that never goes out. Even when it seems like he's on the verge of giving up, his friends are there to inspire him and lift him back up, just as he had done for them. He follows his heart, which is, and has always been, his guiding key.

You could say that these similarities are due to the fact that Sora and Superman are very much archetypal heroes. Joseph Cambel's hero's journey cycle (which also heavily influenced Star Wars) can be seen in both of their respective journeys. Individuals from humble beginnings who venture out into the wide world ahead of them, encountering various allies, enemies, and obstacles along the way. The journey ultimately leads to the heroes gaining greater powers and becoming more than who they were before.

It's also worth noting that another thing Superman and Sora have in common is that sometimes they are both willing to take great risks in order to save the people that they love. In Superman: The Movie, the man of steel himself flies around the Earth at great speed, turning back time to save Lois Lane from an earthquake. In Kingdom Hearts 3, Sora uses the power of waking to bring back Kairi after her body was destroyed by Xehanort, sacrificing his own life in the process.

So, why do I bring all of this up? Because I believe that this is something that writers should keep in mind when tackling Sora, whether it's for fan fiction, comics, novels, etc. I've noticed this trend on the internet of people deconstructing the psychology of Sora and delving into the negative effects that his adventures have had on him. A few of them have even declared his optimism and playful smile as a form of "toxic positivity". While it does seem like an interesting idea, I feel like it's causing people to forget about why they love him in the first place. In some cases, there are those who end up going too far with that notion.

Not long ago, I stumbled upon a Kingdom Hearts fan fiction story titled Keys to the Kingdom. Basically, it reads as an alternate universe reimagining of the events of Kingdom Hearts 3. Even though it was well written, this version of the story gets extremely dark, depressing, and cynical. Not only that, but it also mistreats Sora in a somewhat disturbing way, portraying him as a tortured and tormented soul. While his arc in this does prove to be compelling at times, it was still very jarring, making for an overall unpleasant experience. The fic seemed to be so focused on beating this character down, so intent on having him suffer throughout, that it ends up losing sight of what makes him so endearing and likable. Or, to borrow a quote from the young keyblade wielder himself:

"You're so caught up in finding the shadows, you forgot about the light that cast them."

This doesn't feel too out of place with the "evil Superman" trend that was around for a period of time. The video game Injustice is a prime example of this, as it depicts Superman as a merciless dictator of a fascist regime, who rules with an iron fist and shows no compassion towards crime or his enemies. Even other creations like Homelander from The Boys and Omni-Man from Invincible are representations of this idea since they are basically evil Superman-types. Admittedly, I do give those two a little more leeway since they were made specifically for the stories they came from. They are not directly related to Superman other than having similar powers. Although this concept can be fun to tackle with an original character, I don't think it feels right to try to do it with the genuine article himself. That's not really who he is.

When making the first Superman movie back in 1978, director Richard Donner took it upon himself to do the big blue boy scout justice. He didn’t want the material to be treated with disrespect, nor to be seen as a joke. There's a word he used to emphasize this as a top priority: "verisimilitude". For those unfamiliar, the basic definition of it is the appearance of being true and real. Not only was that word hung up on the wall above Donner's office (which it was), but it also established the mission statement that many of the great superhero movies made in the years since then have followed:

Be truthful, honor the source material, believe in it, take it seriously.

This is the type of mindset that should be adopted by anyone who adapts any kind of preexisting work, especially when it comes to something like Kingdom Hearts. If you want a good example of how to write Sora in a way that showcases how great he is while also being faithful to who he is, there's another fan fiction story titled Starbound, created by my friend @skygent. An anthology with an overarching narrative mixed in, it uses the setup of Sora's disappearance at the end of Kingdom Hearts 3 as a way to examine the impact that he's had on all of his friends and allies. In a deeper, meta sense, it offers an analysis of the connection that fans of the franchise itself have formed with him.

The stuff that has been written so far for this fic is absolutely amazing. In fact, it's what led to my renewed interest in Kingdom Hearts in the first place. It has pretty much what you would want in a story like this one. Balancing a sense of scale, mystery, and adventure, but also quiet reflection. Offering some fun little twists, but still retaining the core essence of what the source material is all about. Through this story, we see various characters (including some not featured in the games) learning of and reacting to Sora's disappearance, remembering their encounters with him in the past. Some of them are even inspired to try and figure out where he is, willing to doing whatever it takes to help find him and bring him back home. Here, they demonstrate just how much he means to them, just as they all do to him.

To be clear, I'm not saying that Sora should stay exactly the same. In a series like Kingdom Hearts, we want to see those characters grow and evolve. With the things that Sora has experienced throughout the series, and with where we will find him at in Kingdom Hearts 4, it'll be interesting to see where he goes next. At the same time though, we also should remind ourselves that people love this character for a reason. As this young hero embarks on his newest adventure, he shouldn't lose what makes him who he is as a person. Instead of pulling him apart, I think Sora is someone who deserves to be celebrated. To be treated with dignity and respect, just as Donner did for the last son of Krypton. In the same way we've celebrated Superman over the years for what he stands for and represents, Sora should also be recognized in an equally similar way. Their respective core values and good morals, all the stuff that makes them heroes. It's these things that turned them into pop culture icons who remain with us to this day. It's why they will continue to be icons in the foreseeable future.

Two beacons, shining bright in the darkness. Never forget that.

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